


Whippoorwill

by nchi_wana



Category: Et Cetera (Manga)
Genre: Action, Drugs, Explosions, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Mid-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/pseuds/nchi_wana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate has always wanted to find the bird that sings at night, and it comes to him in the most unlikely circumstance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whippoorwill

Sometimes Alternate used to hear the whippoorwill at night. When he was a boy, he’d go out and try to find it, only he never could. He’d always wanted to see one. It was such a pretty sound to come lilting out of the darkness, comforting in the time when boogeymen lurked. Like the celestial assemblage of the nocturnal sky, Alternate had come to see the whippoorwill as part of that world, but as an invisible, fallen star that had given up its light to sing. It would leave him breathless with wonder as he listened, wishing with an aching heart that he could at least glimpse the bird once. Its song would echo in his soul.

Some years had gone by since he last heard its voice, or perhaps he had stopped listening. That was strange. He considered its song as one of the few good things in his life. To not hear when the bird sang could be an indicator that he had spent too much time in the deep darkness of corruption. Alternate was so far away and so deep that the melodies were muted. But he craved to hear it again.

He was trying to remember what the bird sounded like as he walked down the street. Lost in his thoughts, Alternate didn’t pay attention to his companion. She chattered on about anything and everything, stopping at a store window to gush over a beautiful dress when he had to remind her of their errand.

“Benkate needs more bullets as soon as possible,” he said to Mingchao. The gunslinger was frantically trying to reload her weapons after a nasty clash with the Syndicate, and didn’t have time to stop and shop for bullets herself. Alternate had volunteered to do it, and before Fino could offer to go with him, Mingchao had eagerly cut in, much to Fino’s annoyance.

“The mercantile isn’t for another five more blocks,” he added. “If we don’t hurry, someone from the Syndicate might see us.”

Mingchao waved away his worry and grinned. “I know, I know, but we’re still miles away from New York City. We don’t have to worry so much, do we?”

“But we have to be careful,” Alternate warned. “It seems they’ve infested every town and city all over the country. We can’t be too careful.”

Unperturbed, Mingchao turned back to the window to drool over a pink and white dress decorated with frills and lace and ribbons and all things Alternate found tawdry about women’s fashion these days. Not that he was one to critique fashion. Mingchao seemed to like it, though. Sometimes he didn’t know why the girl thought the way she did or liked the things she liked. There were whole aspects of Mingchao that were still a mystery to him.

Alternate sighed. He glanced at a dress beside the pink one and said, “I like that one better.” It was red and black with a satiny sheen and less decoration. It looked classier than the other dress. “You look good in red.”

“Red?” Mingchao mumbled. She tugged on her shirt. “But I always wear red. I should wear something different!”

“How about green?”

“Green?! How could I possibly look good in a color like that?” Mingchao turned her nose up.

“Well, I do like that color...”

“But you’re all brown now.”

“What?” Alternate fingered the doeskin cape. “But Fino made this for me. It’s nice!”

Mingchao paused and gave him a good lookover. “Hmm... I think you might look good in… Yeah, you’re right. Green. But I guess you _have_ to wear that because Fino made it.”

“I have to wear it or else I’ll be naked.”

“You’d still have pants. Oh! You could’ve worn that funny little sailor suit! It was nice on your figure.”

“C-Can we just get going already? We don’t have time to talk about fashion,” he said. He turned and stomped away down the boardwalk, well aware of the heat that had come to his face. There was a giggle as Mingchao skipped beside him. She grinned again and seemed amused to see him flustered. She started humming to herself.

How could she be positive and think about dresses and joke about his clothes at a dangerous time like this? It was a characteristic that Alternate had come to admire. But he knew it likely stemmed from her naiveté. Or maybe it was because she had a lead to help her unravel the mystery of the Eto Gun, this man named Bearded Ina. The times were dark, but she kept humming along with a happiness that couldn’t be extinguished.

Alternate had felt a certain warmth at her teasing just now, and not just in his cheeks. While he was embarrassed, he appreciated the lighthearted jests. Maybe being humorous was the medicine they all needed. Doom and gloom could be chased away with laughter. In the past, Alternate’s laughter had been the thing that brought the doom and gloom, right before he executed a perfect plan that usually involved innocent lives. Now, Mingchao was teaching him a new laughter, one innocent and simple and sometimes just plain silly. It was infectious. Her enthusiasm made him smile despite himself.

Considering her unshakable optimism, Alternate was reminded of how forgiving she could be. Sure, she’d made some mistakes in trusting the wrong people, himself included, but whatever made her change her mind about him was something he didn’t know or understand. He regretted every day for having shot her in the chest, for believing Blush’s lie that she had killed Gordy, and every day he wanted to apologize. He could never find the words, but it seemed Mingchao didn’t need words. She just looked at him and knew. Not once did she ever bring up the incident, because to her, his actions conveyed more than any words he might conjure.

She was dedicated to her friends, who seemed to have become her family in a way. Mingchao would defend each and every one of them if the need arose. Every day Alternate learned from her, and more and more he found himself attracted to her light, wanting to open another treasure chest full of curiosities like how life was precious and that everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt. Alternate was thankful. Had Mingchao been anyone else, he would probably be the one with a hole in his chest, a deserving reward for a bastard like him.

The two of them were coming up on the mercantile when Mingchao said, “Do you really think I look good in red? Are you sure it’s not just because I always wear red?”

Alternate shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s why, but I do think red is your color.” He scratched at his cheek thoughtfully. “You would’ve looked nice in that red dress.”

The girl turn pink at his remark. She was quiet for a moment before answering. “And you don’t look so bad in your new clothes. Fino’s good at sewing.”

The image of Fino’s disappointment flashed through his mind. He believed she really wanted to join him on this errand. She’d been acting a bit strange since that brush with Franklin and his men. Sometimes he’d catch her staring at him, but she’d flit her gaze away before he had a chance to ask what the matter was. It was like she wanted to say something, but hadn’t found the right moment to say it.

Alternate found he was glad for Mingchao’s company. Had Fino come along, she would’ve brooded all the way to the mercantile and brooded all the way back. He couldn’t hold it against her, though. He knew the root of her issue, but something about the two of them standing together with the same problem only made their storm clouds merge to grow bigger and darker. He almost never saw her smile, and Alternate was tired of frowning.

“Maybe someday you can get a dress like that,” Alternate offered. “I bet all the men in the West will want to court you when they see how stunning you are.”

Mingchao’s pinkness turned a shade brighter. “Y-You really think so?” She twittered a little laugh. Alternate thought she might be thinking about Baskerville. It was obvious she had a crush on the false priest. But then she raised her luminous eyes to him and their gazes held. The moments passed. Alternate’s heart pounded when he realized what was happening.

She was cute, so full of dreams and goodness that he didn’t understand why he had at first treated her like a thing to throw away. She had yet to grow and mature in her character but everything that was noble and courageous was already present. Mingchao was young but carried an unusual kind of wisdom that most people found foolish, but somehow there was some truth in her worldview. Alternate desired to know more about it.

He swallowed and tore his eyes away from hers. They were standing in front of the mercantile. A couple who exited the building gave them strange looks.

“L-Let’s g-go inside,” he stammered. He went past her and through the door. The girl followed behind him.

He was quick to ask the clerk for bullets, though the man looked at him curiously when Alternate cited the quantity. At first it seemed the store might not have enough. It turned out they had just enough to where he cleaned out the entire stock. Benkate had a knack for calculating the cost of taking care of her weapons because she had given Alternate only slightly more than the money needed.

While the clerk counted the mountain of cash (and probably wondering if these two were looking to start an army), Alternate sorted through the bullets to make sure they were the right ones. He went over a list Benkate had scratched down on a piece of paper.

A group of people came into the store. Men began bringing in crates and stacking them toward the back of the store near a door leading into another room. Soon there were some twenty or more crates taking up the space in the back. The men stacked the boxes as high.

“I don’t know how the heck we’re gonna get all these bullets back,” Mingchao griped. She pouted and glanced at the men who were just now leaving. “Shoulda brought our wagon like those guys did.”

“We’ll manage,” Alternate replied. “Some burlap sacks will do.”

“We sell ‘em over there on the back shelves,” the clerk told him, pointing in the general direction.

The pair went toward the back shelves near the crates. Alternate grabbed a sack and handed one to Mingchao, but as he went to get one for himself he happened to look over at the crates. They were unmarked, which wasn’t unusual, so he couldn’t tell what they contained. But it was a white substance that had come loose between two boards on one crate that caught his attention.

Alternate paused, checked that the clerk was preoccupied, and stepped over to the crate. Mingchao was beside him. She could see the white substance, too.

“It’s some kind of powder,” Mingchao observed. As she went to stick her finger in it, Alternate bumped her hand away.

“Don’t touch it,” he said. He leaned in closer to examine the powder.

“Is it salt?” Mingchao wondered. Then she gasped, her eyes sparkling. “Oh! It’s sugar, isn’t it?”

“It’s too fine to be salt or sugar,” said Alternate. “Maybe baking soda or flour?” He touched a finger to it and felt the texture.

Mingchao thumbed behind her at the counter. “Well, we’d better tell that guy his boxes are leaking.”

Alternate tasted the powder.

“Ew, don’t eat it!” Mingchao blurted.

“What _is_ this stuff?” Alternate made a face. “I’ve never tasted that before.”

Mingchao went suddenly silent. She regarded the boxes stacked along the walls, her eyes growing wider by the second.

“What’s the matter?” Alternate asked with increasing worry. He followed her line of sight, but couldn’t tell what she looking at.

While they had been in the store, her cheeks had retained the flush from earlier. Now the color fled, leaving Mingchao white as a sheet.

“Th-That stuff is…” She faltered and lifted a trembling finger to the boxes. In a whisper she said, “That’s the Syndicate’s _drugs_!”

“Why would the Syndicate send their drugs into a mercantile?” Alternate whispered back. “And in plain sight of everyone?”

“But that has to be what it is!” Mingchao insisted, keeping her voice low. “It’s a white powder and it tastes funny.”

The powder didn’t have a smell, either, so when Alternate sniffed it he couldn’t detect an odor. If they could gather a small sample to take back with them, Baskerville would be able to determine what it was. But with the stash right there in front of them, they couldn’t just leave it. It might be gone later.

“We can’t let this stuff sit here,” he said.

“But what about the guy at the counter?” Mingchao asked. “He might be with the Syndicate, too!”

“He might just be a small-time pawn,” Alternate reasoned. “As long as we don’t tip him off, I don’t think he’d give us much trouble.”

Mingchao brought a hand to her mouth. “I can’t believe it… There might be people in this town taking these drugs, and _dying_!”

“That’s why we’ve got to do something.” But Alternate didn’t know what. He sorted through various ideas in his mind, but all of them involved creating some sort of ruckus. He and his friends had agreed beforehand not to draw attention to themselves here. There was just no way they could get rid of all these crates without someone noticing and raising the alarm.

“Let’s get our stuff,” he said.

“But you said we shouldn’t leave it,” replied Mingchao.

Alternate came in close to her and said, “We’re not. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something.”

The girl regained some of her color. She seemed unsure at first. “Okay, whatever you say…”

They returned to the front counter to pay for their sacks. As the pair started filling the sacks with the boxes of bullets, Alternate’s mind raced. He took his time with the bullets, moving slowly. Mingchao picked up on his movements and did the same. She kept glancing at him expectantly for some sign of his plan.

The clerk watched them. He was trying to be discreet about it, but he would cast them quick looks while stocking some new items on the shelves on the wall behind the counter. Alternate couldn’t be sure, but he thought the man was looking at Mingchao.

Once Alternate put the last box in his sack, he heard the door to the mercantile open. The men from earlier came stomping in with more crates hoisted on their shoulders. They were a rough looking bunch, scarred and mean in the face. If these men were working for the Syndicate, the organization was finding their workers in the dregs of society. Not a bad idea for a group that wanted to maintain its reputation by intimidation and violence.

Alternate grew wary. The men continued to come in and unload the crates, stacking them on the ones in the back. The flow didn’t seem to stop. Soon the back of the store was crowded with crates. The most worrisome thing was that the men didn’t leave like last time. They muttered amongst themselves and milled about as if awaiting further instructions. Several of them glanced at the clerk. Alternate’s heart dropped into his stomach. The clerk turned his gaze on the two customers, and his sights settled on Mingchao. The girl was too distracted by the men to notice, but Alternate did. He remembered the gun holstered at his hip.

“Fate is a funny thing,” the clerk said. His demeanor changed suddenly, and a glint entered his eyes despite the stony expression on his face. “Who would’ve thought you’d walk right into my store and right into our hands?”

At first the men seemed confused. They looked from the clerk to the customers. Whatever the clerk saw, they didn’t—yet.

Alternate dug his fingers into the canvas of the sack, but he wished his hand was on his gun. Not that it would make much of a difference. They would need the Eto Gun in these circumstances. Every one of those men packed some sort of weapon, whether it was a gun or a knife. One scrawny man in particular had a long, wicked blade strapped in a scabbard at this thigh. It was almost the definition of a sword, it was that long.

Mingchao brushed against his side and stood against him, not for protection but to get his attention. She looked up at him with confidence, a slight smile curving the corners of her lips. _We can take these guys,_ she was saying. Where initially Alternate had been feeling outnumbered, he now felt somewhat more assured.

When he turned back to the clerk, he found the man pointing a large revolver at Alternate’s head. The clerk grinned, and as he did, the door to the mercantile slammed shut. One of the men, a tall, muscular man that reminded Alternate of his father, blocked it with his arms crossed.

“It makes no sense to kill you both and make a big mess in my store,” the clerk said. “I’d hate to have to clean that up, which is why I’ll have you brought back in one piece. Although I can’t guarantee Lady Cavanaugh won’t just slaughter you anyway.” He held out his hand. “Now, give over the gun.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mingchao said. She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not giving it to you matter how many guns you point at me. If Cavanaugh wants this gun so bad, then she can come get it herself.”

Alternate blinked in surprise, and the clerk seemed likewise. Mingchao had the power to get them out of this situation, and in all sense she should’ve been scared out of her boots right now. Maybe she was the one with a plan?

He stood there feeling awkward and fearing the clerk might shoot anyway. He was a little cross with Mingchao. Did she not realize there was a gun aimed at his head? But he could nothing as the clerk grew red in the face.

With a sharp order, the big man standing in front of the door seized Alternate around the arms. The brute was so tall that he had to bend to do it. The big man’s muscles bulged as he squeezed Alternate’s slender frame. Alternate began to struggle. Mingchao was horrified, but Alternate shook his head at her. It was a bluff. The big man wasn’t squeezing hard enough to cause injury. They were trying to worry the girl into surrendering the Eto Gun.

“Unless you want your friend’s ribs crushed, I suggest you do as I say,” the clerk said.

The big man added more pressure, and Alternate started gasping.

Mingchao was about to move forward, but Alternate shook his head again. They weren’t bluffing this time, but he wasn’t going to let her give them the gun. The girl needed to learn to stand her ground no matter the threat. To her, though, the lives of her friends were worth far more than the gun.

The big man continued to put on the pressure until Alternate couldn’t take another breath. He felt his face grow hot. He kept his eyes on Mingchao as if a glare alone could keep her pinned to the spot. She took a step, her hand going to the Eto Gun. It wasn’t long before Alternate had a hard time focusing on anything but the pain.

He was on the verge of losing consciousness when Mingchao yelled, “S-Stop it! Don’t hurt him anymore!”

The clerk gave another order and the pressure was eased around Alternate’s chest. He took deep breaths. The big man gave him just enough space to do so.

“Well?” the clerk said, eyeing Mingchao. “You see, we don’t have a lot of patience, not even to go fetch Lady Cavanaugh. She isn’t in town anyway.”

The girl wavered, stuck between the man’s threats and standing her ground.

Alternate felt a trickle of sweat dribble down his collar. He knew Mingchao cared too much about him to let the torture continue. Funny how that was. How could she care so much about him when he had tried so many times to kill her? He figured it wouldn’t be such a loss to the others if he died here. But Mingchao would cry.

There was an abrupt change in her manner. She narrowed her eyes and appeared angry. “Fine. You want this gun, you can have it,” she declared. She yanked it from its holster and seemed about to hand it to the clerk.

Now was Alternate’s chance. While everyone watched the impending exchange, he reached his hand back and took a firm hold of the big man’s crotch. The move shocked his captor, causing the man’s grip to go slack. Alternate’s elbow slipped up and smashed the big man squarely in the nose. Blood spurted over Alternate’s shoulder. As his captor doubled over and clutched at his broken nose, Alternate turned and drove a knee into the man’s throat. The giant went crashing down to the floor where he gurgled and writhed in agony.

A bright light filled the mercantile, and on instinct Alternate dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms. An explosion rocked the building. Bits of wreckage bounced off Alternate’s back. The men screamed in terror.

As the dust began to clear, Alternate could see the back of the mercantile was almost reduced to rubble. Sunlight filtered in through a gash in the building. Several men lay unconscious on the floor, and others groaned as they tried to reorient themselves. It took Alternate a minute to realize Mingchao was standing with her legs astride him, facing the men with the Eto Gun poised for another shot.

Quite a few of the boxes had been destroyed. White powder settled and coated the debris, but a majority of the crates survived. An idea struck Alternate, and he scrambled up from the floor and grabbed up one of the sacks of bullets. The clerk huddled behind the counter, shivering.

Mingchao grabbed the other bag and followed behind Alternate as he rushed for the boxes. He scattered the bullets over the crates and encouraged the girl to do the same. She didn’t ask questions. The next step was obvious, but she appeared hesitant.

“B-But if they go off—“ she started.

“We don’t have time to think about it!” Alternate interrupted. He then grabbed her hand and hurried for the door, but they found the clerk waiting for them. He had regained his composure and held his revolver at ready.

“You’re not getting away!” the man said. “Give me that gun!”

The pair skidded to a stop. Alternate thought to draw his gun, but Mingchao took it upon herself to implement the next step in the plan. She gave the clerk a wide grin.

“Naw, I think I’ll keep it,” she said, and aimed the Eto Gun over her shoulder.

The eruption that followed propelled the two friends forward with such force they were lifted off their feet. The front of the store was ripped open and the clerk disappeared in the chaos. Sharp popping noises echoed throughout.

The next thing he knew, Alternate was lying on his back in the street. He coughed from the wave of dust that blew over him. His breath was knocked from his lungs when Mingchao came sailing through the air and landed on top of him. She trembled with laughter.

The townspeople came running to the scene. They stood about in uncertainty as the pops and cracks of the exploding bullets made them too wary to approach the rubble. A few of the men from within the mercantile had come to and began scampering out of the smoldering building to escape the bullets. When they saw the commotion forming around them, they bolted down the street and vanished. The clerk was nowhere to be found.

Mingchao was still laughing. She sat up on Alternate and wiped away the tears that had formed. “Did you see the look on that guy’s face when I shot that horse bullet?” she asked.

“I didn’t see much of anything,” he replied. He waved a hand to clear the dust in front of his face. No, that wasn’t dust. The white substance floated down like fine ash. He could see it clearly on Mingchao’s pigtails. Soon the both of them were covered with it.

The girl dragged a finger over his monocle and left a clear trail across the glass. “Well, those drugs aren’t going to hurt anyone now.” At the mention of hurting, she became worried and said, “Oh! Are you okay? That big guy really squeezed you hard!” She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Alternate fell back in amazement. It was then that he heard someone calling their names.

Their friends came rushing forward through the crowd. Baskerville looked mortified when he saw the white powder drifting down. He put out his hand to catch some and tasted it with a finger. His eyes went wide.

“What the heck happened here?” Benkate demanded as she came up to Alternate and Mingchao. “Didn’t we agree not to cause a commotion? And where are my bullets?!”

No one needed to answer that for her. The cracking and popping of the superheated bullets could still be heard in the ruins of the mercantile. She watched and listened, and then started gaping when she understood.

“We’d better leave,” Baskerville spoke up. He covered his lower face with a handkerchief from his pocket. “And don’t breathe this stuff in!”

“It’s snowing!” Yaghi said with a giggle. He opened his mouth to taste the powder, but Fino grabbed him and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Mingchao ignored them. She wouldn’t let go of Alternate until he stated over and over that he was fine. She pulled away but continued to straddle him, watching the white dust settle on her nose. She must’ve been reminded of the clerk’s expression because she started laughing again, the sound ringing clear like a little bell. The giggle was sweet in Alternate’s ears. Around them the clamor of confusion lingered, and their friends were trying to get them up and going, fearing rapid retaliation from the Syndicate. Even with danger surrounding them, Mingchao’s mirth bubbled out. Warmth filled Alternate.

He found the whippoorwill.

**Author's Note:**

> I, uh... I ship this now. Some years ago I heard someone mention this as a possible pairing. I got to thinking and believe it's a pairing that can work.


End file.
